


Is This As Sweet As You?

by RainyDaysWriter



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Racecar Cake, Reader-Insert, Small Skelekiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyDaysWriter/pseuds/RainyDaysWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your kitchen was a wreck, there was cake in your lap, and Papyrus was on the verge of tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is This As Sweet As You?

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet cinnamon roll Papyrus baked you a special cake. Lucky you! Another short fic with a skelebro.

Papyrus was a hurricane in the kitchen. Cabinet doors hung open, all sorts of unused kitchen utensils were strewn across the counters, unworthy ingredients were tossed into the sink. Massive patches of flour, smears of egg, and God knew what else decorated the walls. If you didn’t know Papyrus, you’d be in tears over the state of your kitchen. But, you trusted the lovable skeleton monster, and you knew he’d clean up whatever mess he made . . . eventually.

You sat on the edge of the couch, trying to focus on the TV, trying to ignore the crashing and poorly stifled Nyeh Heh Hehs coming from the connecting room.   
Papyrus had been preparing and baking for almost an hour and a half, and every few minutes he would call out to you a question about measurements or the location of something, yet he wouldn’t let you set foot in the kitchen. 

It was mildly concerning.

But, you played along and settled yourself down in the living room. You were quite curious, though. He wasn’t making spaghetti, not from what you could smell. No, it was sweeter, like pastries. It’d be a first for him to make something that wasn’t pasta-related. You couldn’t deny your piqued interest.

“FRIEND! COME, SIT AT THE TABLE!”

That was your cue. You headed into the small dining space between the living room and kitchen and settled down at the table, where Papyrus had set a large plate, utensils, a cloth napkin, and one of your wine glasses filled to the brim with milk. You sighed at the sight, a warm smile settling onto your face. You could get used to this.

“BEHOLD, DEAREST FRIEND.” Papyrus stood in the doorway, a white apron draped over his ‘battle-body’ that read “Kiss the Cook, Platonically,” the last word had been written in black sharpie. In his gloved mitts he held the most Papyrus-esque cake you had ever laid eyes on. It was shaped like a racecar, with flaming bones drawn in white and orange icing across the sides. On the hood, written in looping script, was “Cool Friend.” The windows were covered in blue sprinkles.

You’d never felt more honored to be Papyrus’s friend.

“NYEH HEH HEH! MY CULINARY SKILLS HAVE LEFT YOU SPEECHLESS, I SEE!” The skeleton’s cheekbones glowed orange with pride. “I CAN ONLY IMAGINE THE COMPLEX FEELINGS YOU MUST BE EXPERIENCING AT THIS MOMENT. YOU MUST BE IN AWE AT BEING THE FIRST TO TASTE A PAPYRUS-ORIGINAL PASTA CAKE.”

“Wait, a pasta cake?” 

“CORRECT. IN A MOMENT OF ARTISTIC GENIUS, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DARED TO DEVIATE FROM THE RECIPE EVER-SO-SLIGHTLY! FOR YOU SEE, THE COOKBOOK SUGGESTED A PUDDING FILLING. WHATEVER THAT IS. I, HOWEVER, ADDED A DIFFERENT INGREDIENT THAT YOU WILL CERTAINLY RECOGNIZE AND ENJOY.” 

You swallowed your apprehension, reminding yourself that Papyrus’s cooking had improved drastically over the years with Toriel’s assistance. His spaghetti was one of your favorite dishes, hands down. And you did love cake. Who was to say they couldn’t go together? Society? Pfft.

“Well, I can’t wait to try it, Paps.” 

One second Papyrus was walking towards you with a tantalizing racecar cake, and the next he was slipping on a stray broken egg. His arms swung up, and the cake slapped the ceiling, sticking for an agonizing moment, before gravity yanked it right down into your lap. The car split down the middle, the front half smacking the floor and leaving a trail of cooked pasta noodles in its wake.

You blinked down at the mess of icing, sprinkles, and noodles. You laughed. The absolute absurdity of the situation left you with no other reactions. You gripped your stomach as you doubled over, trying and failing to control the giggles.

“Nyoo hoo hoo . . .”

Your laughter caught in your throat when you saw Papyrus’s face. Tears gathered in his eye sockets, which were fixed on the destroyed hood of the car. He sniffed loudly, still lying on the floor. You sobered up immediately.

“Papyrus,” you said, quickly scrambling off the chair and kneeling in front of him. Papyrus winced as the rest of the cake fell from your legs onto the ground. You took his arms and helped him sit up. 

You could feel a heartstring snap when the first tear fell. It was all you could do not to burst into tears with him, but you managed a comforting smile and wiped away the escaping tears with the pads of your thumbs. 

“MY MASTERPIECE,” he said. The wobble in his tone made your heart shake. “ALL OF MY HARD WORK, RUINED!”

“I know, I’m sorry. But, it was a beautiful cake.” Goodness, you’d never felt more useless. 

“OH NO!” he cried, gripping the sides of his skull. “I’VE DISAPPOINTED YOU, HAVEN’T I? I MADE YOU WAIT FOR SO LONG, TEMPTED YOU WITH THE PROMISE OF A PASTA CAKE, AND THEN DESTROYED THE CAKE AND YOUR HOPES IN ONE FELL SWOOP!” He buried his face in his gloves, Nyoo hoo hooing. 

“Oh, Papyrus, you could never disappoint me.” Should you point out the probably unintentional joke he had just made? No, you decided it would only distress him further. He didn’t acknowledge your words, so you looked around at the wreckage in search of something to placate him. A glob of pasta cake was still stuck to your thigh, droopy noodle filling and all. “Paps, check it out.” When he lifted his skull from his hands you scooped the remaining cake up and broke it into two pieces. “Some of it survived. Looks like we can try it after all, hm?” 

You dropped half into his hands and lifted your share up. “Cheers.” The noodles stuck to your chin as you took a bite, and you didn’t doubt that you had sprinkles and icing all over your mouth. Papyrus watched you, waiting to see your reaction. Bland pasta mingled with sugary sweetness in an odd, but not entirely unpleasant, combination. Swallowing, you beamed at your skeletal friend. “It’s great!”

A small gasp passed through his teeth. “R-REALLY?” He straightened and tossed his own portion into his mouth. “WOWIE! EVEN AFTER BEING THROWN INTO THE CEILING, IT’S STILL DELICIOUS!”

“Well, duh, Paps!” You took another bite. “You’re a culinary genius, aren’t you? Anything you make will be great no matter how you present it. But, for future reference, maybe you should clean up a bit as you cook? I love being covered in pasta cake as the next person, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t want you slipping and hurting yourself.”

“EVEN AFTER I MAKE A MESS OF YOUR KITCHEN AND DROP CAKE ON YOU, YOU STILL WISH FOR ME TO COOK FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?” Fresh tears bubbled up in his eyes, and you panicked, afraid you had said something wrong. He pulled you into his arms, your face was pressed into the apron. “YOU ARE TRULY A GREAT FRIEND!”

You pulled your face away from his chest, patting him on the back. “Papyrus, of course I want you to cook for me. Forever and always, you big dork. Because not only do you make a mean pasta cake, but you’re the coolest guy I know.”

The sheer glee on Papyrus’s face made your entire week. He jumped to his feet, bringing you with him, with renewed elation. “WE MUST START ON A NEW CAKE RIGHT NOW! WITH OUR COMBINED EFFORTS, IT WILL BE THE EPITOME OF COOL!”

Grinning, you pecked his cheekbone, leaving a smudge of blue. Another blush erupted across the skeleton’s face. “Totally. But, uh, let’s clean this place up first. Save ourselves future heartache, okay?”

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus set you down again. His white apron now sported a lovely outline of your lips from the hug, and when he turned around to find the cleaning supplies, you spotted your handprint on his back. You snorted and quickly covered your mouth when he cast you a puzzled look. “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?”

“Oh, no reason,” you said with a wave of your hand. He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but continued his search. Did you dare escalate your shenanigans any further? Two halves of a car still rested on the floor . . . Screw it. “Acting your age” was for losers anyway. You grabbed a handful of the racecar’s hood, pressed yourself to the wall beside the doorway, and called, “Paps, ever had a cake fight?”

“CAKE FIGHT?” Papyrus poked his head through the doorway, jaw opened with another question that would never be known, and yelped as you smooshed the cake across his face. 

You danced back, laughing as he sputtered. A look of betrayal made you hesitate, mirth wavering and you wondered if you had gone too far, but quick as a whip his grin returned full force and he had you in his arms, pressing his cake-smeared face against your cheek. 

He nuzzled you for a second, and finally broke the quasi-kiss with an audible “MWAH!” Sticky noodles and cake clung to your skin in his wake.

Between your uncontrollable giggles he asked, “DID I WIN?” 

“Y-yeah,” you gasped, fighting to catch your breath. “You won, big guy. Congrats.”

Papyrus hugged you tighter. “NYEH HEH HEH!” 

. . .

“I guess you could call this a _sweet_ victory, huh?”

“WHY.”

Totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Cake fights with Papyrus? Yes please. Thanks for taking the time to read, feel free to leave your thoughts about this fic. I actually had trouble writing Papyrus, so I apologize if he comes off as awkward or forced. I'm still testing the waters of writing Undertale, so please bear with me! We all have to start somewhere, yeah?


End file.
